Power Cut
by listeningtothestorm
Summary: Fuses blown in the bunker could potentially make for a very boring night alone. Destiel, please R&R.


_Written while listening to No Surrender - Bruce Springsteen. No, I'm not sure why either. Inspired by a rather unfortunately timed power cut we recently had to deal with! Set sometime during Season 8, no specific time really. Enjoy!_

* * *

The bunker's power supply couldn't have picked a worse time to shut off. Well, at least in Dean's opinion he thought sullenly, hair still dripping wet and full of stiff soap suds from his rudely interrupted shower. It was no easy feat finding a towel in an underground facility without windows when all the lights were off, so he'd ended up in one of the men of letter's thin dressing gowns which was quickly dampening the concrete step where he sat, squinting over at where Sam was squatting next to the enormous fuse box they'd just found at the far end of the garage. He sighed, shining the torch at his brother's face instead of the box, earning him an unimpressed glare back.

'Man, I've got like a billion fuses in the trunk, just go grab a couple and let me get back to my shower already'

'Dean, you've just seen it yourself, I've never even seen a fuse box like this, and it has to be fifty years since it was last even opened. I don't even know what to take out and replace, let alone where to find a fuse like this.'

Dean sighed again indulgently, pulling the dressing gown around himself. 'Well what do you want me to do about it? It's damn cold and I'm soaking wet. Just go to the freaking hardware store and track some down before I literally freeze my balls off'

'Aaaaaand I can add that to the ever-growing list of things I never asked and never wanted to hear' Sam groaned, standing up and grabbing the tool box. 'You coming with? Just go grab some jeans, I'm sure you can find your way to your room'

'No way. Besides, most of my stuff is in the wash anyway, we weren't meant to be going anywhere today so I figured, laundry day'. Sam raised an eyebrow silently. 'You know it makes sense dude. We have a laundry room that actually works now, don't tell me I'm not allowed to take advantage of that.'

'Whatever' Sam shook his head, setting off down the garage with his phone held aloft, dimly lighting the pitch black way ahead. 'At least find some candles or something, I might be a while. And put on some damn pants'

'You don't own me!' Dean called towards Sam's back as he and his dim light grew fainter down the long garage. He sat for a few more minutes staring at the fuse box, shivering on the cold concrete then leapt up, grabbing the torch. He reached the end just in time to hear the front door of the bunker slam behind Sam as he left.

The sudden silence of the bunker was overwhelming when combined with the darkness outside of the little pool of light the torch was giving him, and Dean swallowed. Years of deeply rooted instincts rose in his throat, warning him that standing in the middle of a large, pitch black room, unarmed with no pants on and nothing at his back was a damn stupid idea. However much the bunker felt like home now, Dean knew from previous experience that it was going to be much longer before those voices shut up and it was probably best to just go and put some pants on after all. And maybe grab a gun, just in case.

Never hurt to be prepared after all.

* * *

It only took an hour of Sam being gone for Dean to become thoroughly bored of reading alone in his room. His Walkman batteries were almost dead and he'd only managed to find two candles in the kitchen cupboards. There was a time and a place for reading Cat's Cradle by flickering candlelight and he was not in the right mood for it now. Dean slumped back on the bed, sinking into the pillows that were stacked behind him and shut his eyes.

'Cas? You busy?' Dean briefly cracked open one eye, glancing around the still empty room. 'Well, stupid question, I know you're always busy. But aren't you ever on like, lunch break or something? Little time to catch up on your voice-mails, watch some PBS, eat some burgers? 'Cause it'd be nice if you'd drop in when I'm _not_ on the verge of death once in a while maybe, because seriously man, some could argue there's a fetish involved there-' Cold air rushed over his arms as the quiet sound of fluttering filled the silent room.

'Dean, you're the only person who ever leaves me voice-mails and you usually repeat the information in great, great detail in your prayers anyway, making it completely redundant for me to check them.'

'Hello to you too, asshole' Dean replied, smirking past his still shut eyes. 'Are you just calling in to see if I'm dead, or are you actually staying for a beer?' he opened his eyes slowly, staring up at the angel where he stood at the end of the bed. Cas frowned, looking around the room.

'Why are you sitting on your own, in the dark at seven pm? Are you unwell? I know you weren't asleep.' Dean chuckled, swinging his legs off the bed and sitting up, stretching lazily.

'Power's busted, Sam's off to find a hundred year old fuse, there's hardly any windows in this damn place and I didn't get to finish my very enjoyable shower earlier, in a nutshell.' He stood up and grabbed the torch and one of the lit candles, nodding towards the door. 'So no I guess, no assistance needed. But my Walkman's almost out of juice and I'm sick of reading, so I wouldn't say no to some company.' They walked down the corridor, Dean with the torch and Cas gingerly holding a candle aloft, lighting the way with flickering pools of light towards the kitchen area. Cas sat down softly at the small kitchen table, placing the candle on the table in front of him as he watched Dean make his way over to the cooler in the corner and return with two impressively still cold beers that he cracked open against the counter before sitting down as well.

'You weren't busy, were you?' Dean asked, taking a swig.

'Not as such. I'm mostly back on sentry watch lately, there's lots to be observed and taken note of.'

'So what, you're watching people stuff again?' Dean laughed. 'Suits you to a T man. Wait, is that how you knew I wasn't asleep earlier? I mean I'm flattered Cas but honestly, there's just no mystery anymore.'

Cas shook his head, a small smile playing at his tired lips. 'Mostly i'm watching demon 'stuff', as you put it, I'm afraid. Nothing you aren't already aware of, just keeping an eye on things' He waited until Dean had picked up his drink to take another gulp before continuing. 'I know you weren't asleep because you are currently wearing clothes, and since moving into this bunker you have generally taken to sleeping in nothing at all'. He smiled properly then, watching Dean cough around on his beer as a blush spread across his face.

'Actual stalker' he said indignantly, thumping his chest and shaking his head. 'Cruel, stalker angel who takes delight in making me choke on my nicest beer'. Dean looked up to Cas, across the tiny, dimly lit table in the corner of the room where they sat, and grinned when he saw the angel's face equally flushed, smiling with darkened, distended pupils. He stood up, leaving his beer behind and rounded the table to stand behind Cas's chair. His hands crept over the tall chair back to slip off the already crooked tie, and slide the dusty trench coat off the angel's shoulders. Cas settled back against the chair, wriggling out of his jackets as he leant his head back lazily. He closed his eyes as Dean leaned in closer, breathing warm and light against his ear.

'I think it's only fair then,' he purred softly, hands moving deftly to the buttons of Cas's shirt below his fingers, 'that I'm not the only one choking on something tonight, wouldn't you agree?'

Cas laughed quick and low, opening his eyes. He stared into the face hovering just above his for a second, drinking in the bright eyes and tanned skin mixing with light freckles and a multitude of tiny scars in the flickering light. Cas reached up and grabbed Dean's arm, pulling him down to sit astride his lap before pressing their lips together. They broke apart panting, and Dean pressed their foreheads together hungrily.

'How long can you stay?' he asked, 'because Sam's probably not gonna be back for a while yet.'

'Please, they won't even notice I'm gone for at least another four hours or so' Cas growled back, fingers fumbling impatiently with what seemed like endless brass buttons in front of him. 'I'm going to burn these jeans to a crisp in a minute, the damned stupid things.' Dean laughed and took pity, replacing the angel's hands with his own to quickly remove the offending item before he crushed their lips back together, gasping when his lower lip was caught firmly between sharp teeth. His hips snapped forward, grinding down against the lap below his own, satisfied with the fervent moan it drew from the body below him.

The low burning candle on the table threw jumpy entwined shadows on the cold wall behind them, two tangled bodies dark against the frail light. Dean groaned as the angel's hands tightened on his hips, dragging their hips together in a harsh, desperate rhythm. Their foreheads crashed together once more as their crotches ground together through what thin fabric was left between them.

'I want you to stay as long as you can' Dean breathed, heady and deep. 'Because I want you to fuck me so hard that it's all you can think about for the whole of your fucking next demon watching shift-' he gasped, shifting slightly and grabbing a fistful of the dark hair beside his face. 'Every time you go back to heaven I want you to be thinking about my fingers on your skin, and my nails in your hair and my tongue dripping blasphemy in your mouth.'

His fingers tightened as Cas shuddered violently beneath him, skin flushed from chest to cheeks. 'Bedroom?' he asked, raising an eyebrow. Cas nodded, eyes shining bright in the quickly dimming light of the wide, cold room.

'Bedroom.'

* * *

It was some time later when the power flicked back on, announcing itself with bright lights all throughout the bunker's main rooms, and the muted hiss of a resumed shower somewhere down one of the many corridors. 'Dean?' Sam called, meandering down an empty hallway, torch in one hand just in case anything decided to go off again. He nudged open the kitchen doorway with his shoulder, pushing slightly harder when the door dragged slightly, catching on something behind it. Sam winced, preparing for any number of disgusting, horrifying and vaguely worrying scenarios and bent down to untangle a distinctly rumpled trench coat from behind the door. He stared at it for a moment, then glanced around the rest of the kitchen where two shirts lay tangled on the floor, a pair of jeans sat half on and half off the counter, and a rouge blue tie snaked across the table near a completely burned down candle. He sighed and dumped the torch on the table before making his way out into the hallway where he took a deep breath, facing down the long hallway towards Dean's bedroom where the door seemed to be - thankfully - firmly shut.

'Dean! Power's back on, I'm alive and the car's in the garage!' He yelled. 'I'll be in the library! Don't come find me until both of you are one hundred percent wearing pants!' Sam sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. Although, he had to admit he thought as he dug through his bag for his headphones back in the reading room area, it _was_ certainly a better way to spend a power cut than he'd come up with.


End file.
